Night Pleasures (Dark-Hunter #2)(6)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Did they have to gleam so brightly under the fluorescent lights? Couldn’t Desiderius have found nice, small police-sized cuffs?

Oh no, these had to be five inches thick with some kind of weird Greek design all over them. And a chain that ran a good four inches in length. Anyone who saw them would definitely think they came from one of Tabitha’s weird sex catalogues.

The horror of it! Amanda had never even been inside a Frederick’s of Hollywood. For that matter, she’d blushed profusely the handful of times she’d been in Victoria’s Secret.

And everyone they passed turned to gawk at them.

"I haven’t seen that in at least six months," an orderly said as they passed the admissions desk.

"I heard that," another orderly responded. "Wonder how old the poor guy was?"

"I dunno, but by the looks of her, I’d say sign me up."

Their laughter made her entire face burn. By the interested looks the men were raking over her body, she could surmise Hunter’s words about her having dates might not have been too far off the mark.

"Hey, Tate?" a young doctor asked as they drew near the elevators. "Should I ask?"

Tate shook his head. "You know all the weird shit comes through my office."

The doctor laughed while Amanda covered her face with her hand.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Amanda whispered under her breath, "Hunter, I swear, I’m going to kill you for this."

"Dearie," an elderly hospital volunteer said from beside her. "It looks to me like you already did." She patted Amanda lightly on the arm. "The same thing happened to me and my Harvey. Poor thing. I sure do miss him, too."

Tate choked on his laughter.

Amanda groaned and prayed for this ordeal to end.

Once they reached the morgue, Tate took them into a dim, metallic lab and locked the door. Hunter unzipped the bag from the inside.

"Thanks," he said to Tate as he sat up and removed the bag from his body. He folded it and placed it on a table.

Tate opened a drawer in the small cabinet next to the door. "No problem. Now, take your coat and shirt off and let me see what happened to you."

"It will heal."

Tate set his jaw stubbornly. "What of infection?"

Kyrian laughed. "Immortals don’t die from infections. I am completely incapable of carrying any disease."

"You may not die from it, but it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt and it’ll heal faster if treated." He gave Kyrian a look that said he would not be swayed. "I’m not going to take no for an answer. Let me treat that wound."

Kyrian opened his mouth to argue more, but if he knew anything about Tate, it was that the man was stubborn. Deciding not to waste his time, Kyrian obeyed before he remembered the coat and shirt wouldn’t come completely off, thanks to the handcuffs.

He gave an exasperated sigh and left his clothes to hang against his forearm, then got back on the stretcher and leaned back on his elbows to wait for Tate.

As he watched Tate gather supplies, he heard Amanda’s heart pounding and her breathing speed up. Felt her keen interest as she raked her gaze over his body. She wanted him, and her hot desire played havoc with him.

Kyrian shifted and wished his jeans were a couple of sizes bigger, since the black denim started biting fiercely into his erection.

Damn, he’d forgotten what a literal and figurative pain his body could be when an attractive woman was around.

And she was attractive. What with that charming, elfish face and those big, blue eyes…

He’d always been a fool for blue eyes.

Even without looking at her, he knew she was licking those plump, full lips, and his throat went dry as he imagined the taste of them. The feel of her breath on his face and her tongue against his as he kissed her.

Dear gods, and he had thought the Romans had tortured him! Their best interrogator had been an amateur compared to the physical and mental agony her nearness caused him now.

Even more disturbing than her looks was the fact that she had been an amazingly good sport about all of this. Most women would have been screaming in terror of him or crying.

Or both.

But she had met the entire ordeal with a courage and strength of heart he’d not seen in a long time.

He actually liked her, and that surprised him most of all.

Amanda jumped when Hunter met her gaze. Those deep, black eyes bored into hers and made her hot and breathless.

He lay on the stretcher with one leg bent up and the other hanging over the edge. The black denim hugged his long, powerful body.

And those muscled arms…

Lean and defined, he was all masculine beauty. His biceps were flexed as he leaned back on his elbows. She wanted to reach out and touch him so badly that she ached from it. No doubt, he would be rock-hard and satiny underneath her hand.

His shoulders were incredibly broad, with sculpted muscles that promised strength, speed, and agility. His pecs and arms were every bit as well-formed and tight.

And his stomach, oh heaven! Those flat abs had been made for nibbling.

Unbidden, her gaze followed the thin trail of coffee-colored hairs that started at his navel and vanished under the tight denim. By the size of the bulge in his jeans, she could tell he was amply endowed, and more than passingly interested in her.

The thought made her even hotter.

The deep, golden tan of his flesh defied what she knew him to be. How could a vampire have skin so tawny and inviting?

But even more tantalizing than the lean muscles that beckoned for caresses were the multitude of scars that crossed his flesh. He looked as if he had been clawed by a huge tiger, or beaten within an inch of his life with a whip.

Or both.

Hunter lay down as Tate approached, and she saw a small double-bow-and-arrow symbol branded into his left shoulder. She cringed at the thought of how much such a thing must have hurt, and she wondered if he had agreed to it, or if someone had put it there against his will.

"I take it from your scars that your vampire friends don’t think much of you," she said.

"You think?" he retorted.

"Is he always this sarcastic?" she asked Tate.

"Actually, I thought he was being rather nice to you." Tate cleansed the vicious-looking wound with alcohol. He prepared to give Hunter a local.

Hunter caught his hand before Tate could inject him. "Don’t bother."

"Why?" Tate asked with a frown.

"I’m immune to it."

Amanda’s jaw dropped.

Tate just reached for the sutures.

"You can’t do that," she said, interrupting him. "He’ll feel it."

"He needs that wound closed," Tate insisted. "Jeez, you can see his bones through it."

"Go ahead," Hunter said with a calmness that astounded her.

Stunned, she cringed while Tate made the first suture.

Hunter kept his jaw locked and said nothing.

Amanda watched Tate tend Hunter. Her heart wrenched at the thought of how much pain Hunter must be feeling.

"Doesn’t that hurt?" she asked him.

"No," Hunter said between clenched teeth.

Amanda could tell by the way the veins stood out on his neck and the way he clenched his fists that he was lying.

"Here," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Just hold tight."

Kyrian started at the softness of her hand in his. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like that. He’d been a Dark-Hunter for so long that he had all but forgotten simple kindness.

Tate acted out of gratitude and a sense of obligation.

But her…

There was no reason for her to hold his hand. He’d barely spoken a civil word to her, and yet she reached out to him when no one else would have. It made him feel strange toward her. Protective. Tender.

More than that, her simple touch scorched him all the way to his caged heart. He swallowed, then stiffened. He couldn’t let her close to him. She was a creature of light and he was one of darkness.

The two were not compatible.

"So, how long have you been a vampire?" she asked.

"I told you," he said, his jaw tight, "I’m not a vampire. I’m a Dark-Hunter."

"What’s the difference?"

Kyrian gave her a hard glare. "The difference is I normally don’t kill humans, but if you don’t stop quizzing me, I might make an exception."

"You are one seriously testy Creature of the Night."

"I love you, too."

Amanda dropped his hand. "Oh, that’s it," she said. "I was just trying to comfort you. God forbid, you should let anyone actually be nice to you."

Irritated, she met Tate’s surprised gaze. "Can you just saw his arm off while we’re here and get me loose?"

Tate snorted. "I could do that, but he needs his more. I’d cut yours off before I did his."

"Oh, great, what are you, his Igor?"

"Wrong movie," Tate corrected. "Igor was Frankenstein’s flunky. Renfield is the one you’re thinking of, and no, I’m not Renfield. Name’s Tate Bennett. Parish coroner."

"I’d already guessed the coroner part. Rather obvious since we’re in a cold lab full of dead people."

Tate arched a brow at her. "And you call him sarcastic."

Hunter jerked as Tate pulled too hard on the sutures.

"Sorry," Amanda said. "I won’t distract him anymore."

"I would appreciate it."

Once Tate finished, Hunter put his shirt and coat back on. He slid off the stretcher with only the slightest hiss to reveal his side was sore.

Tate’s pager went off. "I’ll be back in a few minutes. You kids need anything?"

"I’m fine," Hunter said. "But she probably needs breakfast and a phone."

Amanda quirked a brow at his words. Why would he let her have a phone now?

Tate quickly cleaned up the mess. "The phone is against the far wall, just dial nine to get out. I’ll grab something in the cafeteria and be back as soon as I can. Stay in here and keep the door locked."

As soon as they were alone, Hunter moved so that she could sit on the small stool by the phone.

Blinking, Hunter rubbed his hand over his eyes as if they were sensitive to the fluorescent lights. "We need to make plans," he said quietly. "You wouldn’t happen to know anyone in this city who might have a way to break handcuffs made by a Greek god?"

Getting used to his sarcasm, she smiled. "Actually, I think I do."

His face instantly lightened. Gracious, the man was gorgeous when not scowling or barking. "One of your sisters?"

"One of their friends."

He nodded. "Good. We need to do that, preferably before sunset, or at least not long after it. You also have to call Tabitha and tell her to lie low for a few days."

"You know, for the record, I hate to take orders. But!" Amanda said interrupting him before he could pull rank. "I realize I’m in over my head. You have no idea how much I hate all this supernatural garbage. So I’m willing to listen to you, but you better start acting like I’m a person and not some mindless blow-up doll."

She pulled his ring out of her pocket and returned it to him. "And another thing, I really have to go to the bathroom."

Hunter laughed out loud.

"It’s not funny," she snapped at him as he put the ring back on his finger. "Any idea how we can do this without my dying of embarrassment?"

"More than that, any idea on how to do that without my getting arrested for being in the ladies’ room?"

She cut a sharp glare at him. "If you think I’m going into the men’s room, forget it."

"Then I hope you can hold it."

"I am not going into the men’s room!"

Five minutes later, she was in the men’s room and cursing Hunter under her breath. "You really get off on being a bully, don’t you?"

"It’s what I live for," he said in a bored voice as he stood with his back to her. He had his arm bent behind his back to allow her more latitude with the handcuffs.

Amanda glared at him. Her bladder felt as if were going to burst, but she was having a very difficult time going with him sandwiched between her and the stall door.

And all because Tabitha couldn’t remember to let her damn dog out! If she ever got out of this, she was going to kill her sister. Dead. Dismantled!

"What’s taking so long?" he asked in an aggravated tone.

"I can’t go with you standing there."

"Would you just go?"

"Just you wait! Sooner or later, it’ll be your turn and I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm."

He went rigidly still at her words. "Baby, you could never make me squirm."

The coldness in his voice scared her.

It took her a few minutes, but she finally finished and her face was hotter than a summer afternoon at the equator. She washed her hands, all the while trying not to look at Hunter.

"You have toilet paper on your shoe," he said, glancing down at her foot.

"Oh, of course," she said. "Anything to make this more embarrassing for me. Could you get any more personal?"

A devilish gleam entered his eyes. Then that dark, penetrating stare dropped to her lips. She swore she could feel his hunger, feel his inner need to touch her.

Before she knew what he was doing, he cupped her head with his free hand, brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, and bent his head down to capture her lips with his.